


They Told Us Not To Clap (And We Clap As Loud As We Can)

by astrea_vita



Series: Big Houses [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 'are you decent' 'not morally but i'm wearing pants if that's what you're asking', Bad Puns, Emotional Manipulation, Established Relationship, Heaven is Terrible (Good Omens), Hot Chocolate, Implied/Referenced Sex, Insufferable Husbands, Negotiations, Other, Post-Episode: s01e06 The Very Last Day of the Rest of Their Lives, Sharing Clothes, They Are Very Irritating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:02:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27195523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrea_vita/pseuds/astrea_vita
Summary: Gabriel tries to bring Aziraphale back into Heaven's fold by appealing to his better nature. It's just as well he literally doesn't know who he's dealing with.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Big Houses [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1753132
Comments: 18
Kudos: 126





	1. All I've Been Taught to Recall (Simply Fails To Persuade Me)

"Gabriel. I've been expecting you." Aziraphale's chair didn't swivel, so he settled for tilting a cold gaze over his small round spectacles. He set his mug of cocoa on the little table and beckoned Gabriel into the back room, gesturing towards the sofa. "Do have a seat."

Gabriel grimaced, sat gingerly towards the edge as the soft cushions threatened to sink him inwards and envelop him. "I'm... glad that you accepted my offer for a meeting." He glanced at the pair of mugs on the table between them. "Is that, ah - "

"No." Aziraphale crossed one ankle over his knee and steepled his fingers, surveying Gabriel over them. "Now, then. To what, precisely, do I owe the occasion?"

Gabriel spread his palms magnanimously. "I only came to talk."

"Ah, yes. Heaven forbid you do anything else."

Gabriel frowned. "Look, I realize we may have handled things... rashly. Circumstances being what they are, I want you to know that we're willing to work towards a more agreeable arrangement." He braced his elbows on his knees and folded his hands, looking for all the world as if he'd read a pamphlet on non-threatening body language and practiced it in the mirror the previous evening.

A floorboard creaked in the hallway. Aziraphale didn't turn around.

"Are you decent?" he called crisply. "We have company."

" _Decent?"_ Crowley sprawled across the doorway in a shuffle of soft fabric and stretch of fingers around the wood frame, lollygagging on the threshold. " _Really,_ angel."

His sunglasses were absent, his face scrunched, hair artfully mussed. His pajama bottoms were long, black, silk. His shirt was buttoned to the collarbone, loose about his frame, slightly rumpled, pale blue.

Aziraphale pushed his glasses up his nose in a desperate bid to fend off a sigh of resignation, a half-smirk, and a delicate flush creeping up his neck.

"Well. You'll do, I suppose."

"Mmhmm. Gabriel! What _are_ you doing here at this ungodly hour?"

"Aren't they all ungodly with you?" said Aziraphale, voice rich with affection.

"Yes, and they're all too early in the morning to be dealing with Gabriel."

"So much for your Jeffrey Archer guy," Gabriel muttered. "Why is he here?" he carefully inflected as a question and Not A Demand as Crowley wandered in and retrieved the red mug with the pointy-tail handle.

"If you were hoping to discuss this matter privately, I'm afraid that's not an option," said Aziraphale. "If you're asking because you don't comprehend the nature of what's happening here, well. I'm afraid I really don't know what to tell you."

"You could sell him some more pornography _,"_ Crowley suggested brightly.

"I think I get the picture." Gabriel grimaced again. "Really, Aziraphale?"

Aziraphale's vexed look in Crowley's direction lingered, morphed into bemused fascination when Crowley dipped the forked tip of his tongue into the cocoa, darted it back, and hissed at the air with a _flthhhfffthhllff_ sound as he tried to cool it.

"So sorry. You were saying -?"

Gabriel cleared his throat. "Look, it's not that - given further reflection - that we don't understand why this happened. A being of eternal love, surrounded by ephemeral creatures... maybe, if we hadn't left you down here for so long, if we had offered better guidance, you might not have turned to the next closest substitute. Someone whose very specific skillset was to appeal to the things you were missing, and warp your perspective."

"Next closest substitute?" Aziraphale's lips thinned to a fine line. "He was nothing like the rest of you. That was rather the point. Of course, I'm flattered that you've come to be concerned about that sort of thing," Aziraphale went on before Gabriel could formulate a response. "I was rather under the impression that you all had written me off around the time that I was... fired."

Crowley choked around his second attempt at a sip of cocoa, jostling the mug and splattering his sleeve. He looked back up from the speckles on his cuff with wounded eyes. "See what you made me do. I _liked_ this shirt." He raised his wrist to his mouth and worried at the spots with his tongue.

"See what _I -_ Crowley, it's _my_ shirt," Aziraphale squawked.

"Yes, and I like it."

Aziraphale lifted his eyes skyward and sighed.

"Aziraphale." Gabriel huffed, caught himself, and opened his hands in a magnanimous gesture. "Like I said, we handled things... more severely than was necessary. Now that we've had a chance to consider, and take into account the things you've brought to our attention, we want to come to a more agreeable solution. Meet on a better occasion, like you said."

Aziraphale appraised him, long and slow. He tilted his head toward Crowley, who was trying to slouch in the background and hover over his left shoulder simultaneously, and was only halfway succeeding at both. "My love, you speak Corporate Culture. Would you care to translate that for me?

Crowley cleared his throat. "Aziraphale," he intoned in a flawless, pancake-flat American accent. "You're a terrible inconvenience, but since we can't get rid of you properly, we're going to pretend to make nice for a bit to get you to fall in line. Except we're going to fail miserably, because we couldn't resist insulting your boyfriend." He smiled winningly. "How was that?"

"Uncanny."

"I know it's hard to see the way he's influencing you," said Gabriel, his tone veering a few significant degrees off of sympathy and landing just on the wrong side of pity. "We do want to make things right, and bring you back home where you belong. We can make a case for leniency. You've always tried so hard to do the right thing, you've just become confused from spending so much time down here. Getting attached, getting distracted."

"Ooh, a case for leniency," Crowley crowed. "Is this what passes for divine mercy now?"

Gabriel sighed. "If it's really not an option to talk about this privately, could you possibly get him to _be quiet?_ "

"It amazes me that you'd think I would even care to try." Aziraphale sipped from the white-winged mug and replaced it delicately. "I realize that this is a distressing new experience for you, but do you know, he's been awfully considerate so far. He even lets you finish your sentences."

Crowley preened. "I'm a demon, not an ill-mannered lout."

"Now, as to the offer of divine mercy," Aziraphale went on. "You'll understand if I'm a little slow to believe that Heaven would just... welcome me back with open arms. I assume there's a catch."

"It's not a catch, Aziraphale. It's a question of trust," Gabriel said sternly. "You broke faith with Heaven, allied yourself with the Enemy, and undermined our greatest mission. That you haven't Fallen is... well, we're taking it as a sign from the Almighty that there is still a place for you among us."

"Back in Heaven, I presume. You would have me prove myself by sacrificing all the things I fought for when I chose to stand on behalf of our Mother's creation."

"Your -" Gabriel waved a hand and made a constipated expression. "- earthly pleasures are negotiable. That's not really our priority. But there is a condition, a kind of assurance that you're back on board. We need to know how you survived the Hellfire."

"I rather thought it might be something like that." Aziraphale smiled thinly. "You have your eye on the long game, I presume."

"Quite the strategic advantage over Hell," said Crowley. "Do you have a sportsmanlike bet on with Zzzir Lordship to see who figures it out first?"

"And what a way to make sure I'd never step out of line again," Aziraphale added.

"We don't _need_ the Hellfire for that." Gabriel's eyes hardened, but he kept his expression composed. "The point is that, if you give us this, there won't be any reason for you to feel that you have to protect yourself from us. It would be a gesture of mutual trust."

Crowley snorted. "You're a little fuzzy on how that concept works, aren't you?"

"You think you can threaten me into buying Heaven's forgiveness?" Aziraphale's lip curled. "What makes you think I'm prepared to forgive you?"

"You're an angel," said Gabriel. Condescending, with a touch of paternal indulgence. "Forgiveness is what we do. When you remember who you are, free from Bad Influences -"

"Did you forget who you were, then, when you tried to burn me?" Aziraphale snapped. "Or was that just a side effect from _your_ alliance with Below?"

"Careful, now." Crowley grinned. "Mind the shards of your _enormous_ glass skyscraper."

Aziraphale gathered himself and considered Gabriel thoughtfully. "You may not need Hellfire to bring me to heel, but it was certainly enough to scare you into making _nice._ So whatever you do, you can't do it without getting others involved. There'd be witnesses. There'd be _questions_. That's why you won't just leave me alone, isn't it?"

Gabriel's expression withered.

" _Oh,_ " said Crowley softly, and then, with a considerably more exaggerated _ooooh_ , added, "So that's why Below hasn't come for me yet. Great big spectacle, nearly a riot, I bet they're still busy doing damage control."

"Perhaps you would consider a counter-offer. A mutual non-interference policy?" Aziraphale suggested, with a tone that implied he very much doubted it but was willing to give it a go anyway, and that he was pretending not to notice that Crowley had picked up his mug again. "A ceasefire, so to speak."

"Oh, for He-" Crowley clunked the mug back on the table in time to keep from choking on another sip. "For _fuck's sake!_ "

" _Dearest._ Language." Aziraphale shot him a scandalized look, and Crowley crinkled his upper lip. Aziraphale cleared his throat. "It's not as if I relish the idea of fomenting discord in Heaven. Sounds exhausting, frankly. If you're really interested in a more agreeable solution, I see no reason that you can't leave me alone. I intend only to walk among our Mother's creations and love them as She asked of us."

Gabriel grimaced. "I'm pretty sure She didn't mean shacking up with the nearest demon, Aziraphale."

"Possibly not, but you can't know that for sure, can you?" said Aziraphale. "That's _ineffability_ for you, I'm afraid."

Crowley made a small, gleeful noise at the back of his throat.

"You say that now, but you can't expect this to last." Gabriel folded his arms. "Suppose Hell gets its act together and tries again. Or you come to your senses. Or he does, and he up and leaves when the honeymoon's over; I hear that kind of thing happens." Aziraphale's expression snap-froze, like ice-water in rock salt. "Come on, Aziraphale. He's a demon. It's not like he can love you back."

Crowley made an offended noise. Aziraphale leaned forward, gaze steady, voice crisp. "It's not like Heaven ever has."

"Ooooh," said Crowley, whose sullen, defensive look was creeping its way into a slightly daft approximation of his snake-smile. "Anyway, I haven't actually proposed yet." His voice was taut around what was either barely restrained fury or wild amusement. "Thought we might _live in sin_ for a bit first."

Aziraphale sighed. "You are utterly dreadful," he proclaimed, pink in the cheeks.

"And you're never getting rid of me now." Catching the full force of Gabriel's ultralavender gaze, Crowley crinkled up his nose again and stuck out his tongue.

"Aziraphale," Gabriel said sharply, rolling his eyes and turning back. "You realize you'll be cutting yourself off from us completely if you refuse the offer. It's not a Fall, but it would be exile. We can't run the risk, even if you change your mind."

"I quite understand." The side of Aziraphale's mouth tilted up unbidden. "'Can't shake the devil's hand and say you're only kidding,' as they say."

”Oh, is that what they say now?” Gabriel said dryly.

"Is 'exile from Heaven' any different from 'non-interference agreement,' or does it mean we'd still have to put up with you lot interfering?" Crowley asked, idly examining his black-polished nails.

Gabriel ignored him. "And we'd have no recourse to stop anyone who tries for a reprisal off the books."

"Oh, that's nice," Crowley butted in again. "'Will no one rid me of this meddlesome principality,' as it were."

"Would they really risk it, though?" Aziraphale mused. "Come after the one angel with immunity to Hellfire? For all you know, I've had to spend ages building it up. Maybe I've had to have access to it all along."

Gabriel squint-smiled at him. "Now, why would you tell me that?"

"Oh, because I'm sure that having other angels successfully replicating the process in order to come deal with me would solve all of your problems, and could never... _backfire_ on you."

Crowley groaned and stalked around the couch to rummage in the cabinets. Aziraphale leaned forward, and Gabriel carefully matched his gaze as Crowley clanked and muttered behind him.

" - didn't think your lot had the imagination for puns, bet it was the humans again..."

"But for all we know," Aziraphale continued expansively, "it truly was the divine will of the Almighty -"

"- three in a row, but nooo, I'm the dreadful one -"

"- in Her Ineffable Wisdom to spare us from annihilation."

"What he's saying is, even if we did know, we wouldn't tell you," Crowley snipped as he re-emerged and wandered back to Aziraphale's side with a bottle of spiced rum, sloshing it into the hot chocolate and glaring at Aziraphale over the mug as he downed nearly half the contents. Aziraphale gazed back, suddenly caught by surprise and rapt with adoration, and Crowley's face softened. Then, abruptly, he fidgeted and cleared his throat. "So. Non-interference agreement. Do we want to get something in writing? I can help draw up a contract, sign as your witness."

"I think Aziraphale can speak for himself here," said Gabriel.

"Oh? That's a change." Aziraphale huffed. "I believe I've made myself clear, Gabriel. I'm willing to take my chances without Heaven's, er... protection. _Let it suffice thee,"_ he continued, _"that thou knowest Us happy, and without love no happiness_."

Crowley sputtered, no cocoa required, and moved his mouth soundlessly for a moment or two. "You - that - Milton! You bring _Milton_ into this?" he managed in a tone of high outrage. "You know how I feel about him, we've talked about this!"

Aziraphale shot Gabriel a smug look. "Yes, if that doesn't do the trick, I'm afraid I'm quite stuck with him." He glanced back at Crowley and blinked once. "Good Lord. Are you blushing?"

"...Shut up." Crowley's face was ambiguously pink, but his ears and neck were crimson.

"Oh, you _are!_ Celestial rosy red, Love's proper hue," Aziraphale sang. "Yes, I thought you'd recognize that bit."

"Yeah, okay, guys," said Gabriel, holding his hands up and getting to his feet. "I _knowest._ More than I ever needed to, honestly. I'll see myself out."

They looked at him as if surprised he hadn't done so already. Gabriel's form shimmered, but solidified instead of fading.

"Door's that way." Aziraphale gestured.

Gabriel set his face in a pasted-on smile, and departed.


	2. Make Us Into Corresponding Shapes

The bells chimed and the main door rattled shut. Crowley exhaled, stole the red mug from off the desk and drained the rest of it. "Well."

"Shhhh _shhhssshhh_!" Aziraphale hissed frantically. "Not yet!" Crowley straightened back up in the chair and darted a questioning glance between him and the doorway. "He tends to pop back up, we need to wait."

"He can't do anything in the shop. Or _to_ the shop. We made sure of it, remember," Crowley murmured.

"I know, I know, I just -" Aziraphale fussed with one chocolate-spattered cuff, tugged the loose hem, fluttered his hands over phantom lapels.

Crowley poured a measure from the bottle into the white mug and passed it over to give Aziraphale something to do with his hands. "Gonna do a sweep, just in case. Make sure he didn't leave us any surprises."

He prowled through the shop, trailing after the cloying fumes of celestial ozone and something that resembled those bags upon bags of fake cinnamon pinecones that cropped up in large craft stores the day after Halloween and wouldn't leave for months.

"All clear," he said upon return, closing the door and flinging himself down across the sofa. "Just smells like, like crisp apple _bloody_ strudel now. Nurgh, this too." He batted at the air above the cushions as if he could dispel it like smoke from a snuffed candle - _bad simile, that can get right out_. "Locked up for you, we're taking the day off again."

"Oh, thank you." Aziraphale set the empty mug back on the desk. "He's really quite gone?"

"All gone, angel. Hard part's over. You did brilliantly." Crowley lounged back, grinning. "You swore." Aziraphale chuckled, which spilled into a slightly hysterical giggle. "Oh, go on, that was fun, wasn't it? Just a bit? What about me, how'd I do?"

"Absolutely marvelous. Far more dignified than I ever could have managed - I'm afraid I rather didn't manage to return the favour this time."

Crowley waved it off. "Got to let your hair down a bit, say what you liked. Pretty sure you convinced him he doesn't want to think too hard about -" he waved a hand between them as Aziraphale shuffled over to the couch and stood before him in unaccustomed, gangly limbs. "Which is _scintillatingly_ brilliant in its own right. Speaking of -" He reached up and took both of Aziraphale's hands in his, tugging him down astride his lap and leaning up to press their foreheads together. "Ready?"

Aziraphale hummed assent and mumbled as an afterthought, "You're welcome to keep the shirt, though."

"Ugh, you nearly scared the actual Hell out of me," Crowley grumbled. "Your shirt, indeed."

"Is that really what they're calling it now? Shaking the devil's hand?" Aziraphale held up their joined hands, watching with fascination as both sets of nails shimmered with black polish over a tidy manicure.

 _"Easier than air with air, if spirits embrace,"_ said Crowley, smile crooked as they re-situated into their customary forms.

"Oh, hush." Aziraphale, still holding their hands between them, kissed the back of his knuckles. _"Union of pure with pure,_ my arse."

Crowley beamed. "Think about it this way; he'd roll over in his grave if he knew about this."

"You have a point, there."

 _"Desiring, nor restrained conveyance need, As soul to mix with soul_ ," Crowley went on relentlessly. He plucked away the frames of Aziraphale's spectacles and banished them to the writing desk, leaning down for a kiss. " _Or flesh with flesh_."

"Other way 'round," Aziraphale quibbled, wrapping his arms around Crowley's waist pulling him close.

Crowley tilted an eyebrow up. "Of all the ways we are currently de _sss_ ecrating Milton, I think that's the least of your problems."

"Of all the things we could currently be desecrating, I think that's the least of our priorities."

"What happened to 'not a sin if it's an act of love?'" Crowley quibbled back, nuzzling into Aziraphale's temple.

"Well, that's all very well for the humans to argue about, but Gabriel has opinions about 'earthly pleasures' and the Sullying Qualities Thereof, and we really must do something about this sofa."

"Stinks of high heaven," Crowley snickered, draping his arms around Aziraphale's shoulders and nudging their foreheads together. "Downstairs's got opinions about 'acts of love,' you know."

"Makes the whole thing rather thrilling, doesn't it?" Aziraphale gently scored his perfect nails down either side of Crowley's spine where the wing joints lived. "I'm starting to see what you've been on about all these years."

Crowley stared at him hazily. "Wha've I been on?"

"Temptations and all. The allure of getting away with things."

"Hmh," Crowley mumbled with an encouraging lilt, sighing as Aziraphale rucked up the sky-blue pajama shirt and settled his hands around the small of his back. "Only now?"

"Yes," Aziraphale murmured, a little breathless but infuriatingly composed. "It is different now, I think. It all still feels... well, awfully naughty -"

 _"Naughty,"_ Crowley snorted.

"But without all the mortal peril it's actually _fun_."

"You really did enjoy that, hm?" Crowley murmured, voice dripping honey. "Showing up in my clothes. Well, me in yours. You wanted him to _know_ , you wanted to rub it in -" Aziraphale blushed and turned his face, staring at the couch cushion beside him. Crowley waited for him to sneak a glance back at him before kissing his cheek triumphantly.

"Pastries and theatre tickets might have done as well, I suppose," Aziraphale conceded. "Earthly pleasures, all, but if Heaven's going to needle me about having a boyfriend, they can deal with the consequences."

Crowley snickered again and buried his face into Aziraphale's neck. "Threw everything he had trying to get you to doubt yourself, and you threaten to _marry me_."

"Threatened? My dear, I'm fairly certain I suggested the opposite -"

" _Yet_ , you said." Crowley sat up in his lap and carded long fingers through the pale wool-fluff of Aziraphale's hair, grinning down at him. "You planning to follow through at some point, or was that a hint that you want me to do the honours?"

"Oh, I - I hardly know. I hadn't thought it'd be your, er, scene. Especially not in a church; your poor feet." 

"Bit human. Good excuse to have cake, though."

We could propose at the same time. Might be fun."

"Fun," Crowley echoed, suddenly beset by the mortifying vision of Aziraphale pulling a ring from behind his ear, and made a face. "Sin first. Matrimony later."

"Just so."

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even remember how this started, but I vaguely recall wanting to try my hand at a Gabriel confrontation, body-swap fic, and the Full Milton, and lo this sat in my WIP folder for a year. Fic title is from Big Houses by Squalloscope, chapter 1 title is from Moments in Between by The Reign of Kindo, Ch. 2 title is from Such Great Heights by The Postal Service. 'Can't shake the devil's hand' is by They Might Be Giants.


End file.
